The Morrow Day Council
by Prince Azrael
Summary: Every thousand years, the Morrow Days hold a council to discuss house matters. See the chaos that follows in the Morrow Day Council.
1. Chapter 1: Nibbles and Food Fights

**I do not own TKTTK. Would I still be here otherwise?**

The Morrow Days Council 1 – After the Breaking of the Will 

Lord Sunday sat down at the polished oak table. It was perfectly round, and their were places for the other six Morrow Days to sit around it, a glass of blood red wine and several plates of what lesser Denizens called 'nibbles' tucked amongst the cakes and fruit that Lord Sunday's cooks had meticulously prepared.

'Fellow Morrow Days…'

Lord Sunday did not finish the sentence, for whilst he was sitting bolt upright, the other Days were amusing themselves by waging war with the food and the cutlery. Tuesday was flinging food at the incredibly thin Lady Wednesday, who retaliated by sending several spoons in his direction. Sir Thursday had made an alliance with Friday and Saturday, and together they were assaulting the hyperactive Mister Monday with various blunt objects, laughing every time he squealed.

'Silence! Tuesday, clear up that mess! Friday put that apple corer back in its place. And Mister Monday please sit down!' shrieked Sunday.

At this, the Morrow Days sat down immediately, muttering apologies and returning to their seats, trying to avoid eye contact with Sunday, who appeared to have burst several blood vessels in his face.

'Now, I call to order the first meeting of the Morrow Days. I trust you are all happy with the demesnes you have received?' Sunday asked, not expecting a reply.

'Well, no not really.' replied Lady Wednesday. 'Me and Tuezie here were hoping to have realms a bit closer together, it's quite difficult rowing through the Border Sea all day long for a quick chat the only lasts half an hour.'

Sunday then repeated his statement, with a little more emphasis on the question at the end. Wednesday did not answer this time, all though she did appear to be making rude gestures whenever Sunday faced the other way, causing the other Days to giggle softly.

'Now, are there any questions or problems anyone wishes to bring to the meeting?'

At once, Sunday was bombarded by a tirade of protest, questions and general babble, which made him want to plug his ears. He let out almighty bellow, which made the Morrow Days go silent immediately.

'One at a time please! We'll go in order of precedence, starting with Monday, the least of us.'

Had Mister Monday been paying any attention, he would have been offended, but he was too busy swinging back and forth on his chair, singing a song that humans would later call 'Row, Row, Row your boat'.

'Good. Sir Thursday?' Sunday asked, ignoring the protests coming from Tuesday and Wednesday at the far end of the table.

'Well…I er…. think everything's fine L-lord Sunday sir.' Stuttered Thursday. 'Apart f-from the whole g-g-grid system that you s-set up.'

'What's wrong with the bloody grid? It took me a very long, back-breaking time to complete that system and you don't like it?' At this, Lady Saturday rolled her eyes. It was her who had completed the grid whilst Sunday at the top of the Star Fort on a folding chair, drinking glass after glass of Upper House vodka. But she chose not to say anything, or risk a spit-drenched tirade from Sunday.

'Well, it's h-highly impractical to have s-square 500/500 controlling the whole g-grid. It s-shuts down every time s-something sharp p-pokes into it.' Thursday did not mention that most of the time the grid system went on the blink; it was when Wednesday, Friday or Saturday were visiting. It had been and embarrassing moment when Noon found an enormous stash of brooches and sharp combs in the Overlord's bedchamber and refused to believe that they were for research purposes.

'Okay, maybe I should make 500/500 a tad stronger.' Sunday relented, pausing steady Monday, who had nearly done a backward roll of the back of his chair. 'Lady Friday?'

'Oh, well if I do have a complaint is that my Middle House is far too cold for my liking. '

'You're a Denizen, you don't feel cold. Anyway, you said the snow look pretty when we installed it.'

'Oh, and there seem to be a new form of poisonous plant growing in my summer retreat. Is there any particular reason for that?'

For once in the meeting, Sunday looked nervous. Last week, he and Friday's times had been rather, well, to put it frankly, plastered. They proceeded to stroll through several Secondary Realms, accidentally set a Neanderthal's tent on fire and sink a small Earth country called 'Atlantis'. They had then strewn several plants in Friday's retreat and laughed uproariously when bit her in the behind whilst the Lady was in the bath. He responded simply with and 'I shouldn't think so.' and moved onto Lady Saturday.

'Oh I'm fine Sunday, although are you sure you wouldn't like the Upper House as a domain, it's much too gothic for me and I would like a garden…

'Saturday, we keep the demesnes The Architect gave to us. We must respect her wishes.' What Sunday really meant was that the Incomparable Gardens was the only demesne free of Nothing, and had practically no paperwork to speak of.

'Well, we didn't keep any of her other wishes so I thought…'

'That's it! Meeting adjourned! I'll see you next millennium'. And with that, Lord Sunday strode out of the room, leaving the Days in silence.

'Hey guys'. Whispered Monday. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'

The Morrow Days began to throw food at each other once more, as if Sunday had never been there.

'I forgot my K…' Sunday walked back into the room, dismayed at the site that greeted him.

'It had better not be like this next year…'


	2. Chapter 2: Stink Bombs and Duck Tape

**Thanks for the reviews; hopefully my grammar is a bit better this time round. Enjoy.**

A thousand years after the first disastrous meeting, Lord Sunday sat down on his polished chair, thankful that the Morrow Days were conducting themselves with a little more decorum than they had done in the previous meeting. He was also pleased that Mister Monday's chair had been bolted to the floor with the power of the Seventh Key.

'Welcome to the second meeting of the Morrow Days, I'm glad to see you all back here safe.'

There were several snorts from around the table, especially from Grim Tuesday, who appeared to be shaping some sort of sharp implement with the Second Key. He had been particularly bad tempered after he was strolling through the Far Reaches when an enormous explosion singed his eyebrows off. He thought the explosion sounded suspiciously like the noise made by one of Wednesday's Noon's Nothing cannons.

'Now, it would seem that there is a considerable amount of interference in the Secondary Realms.'

'Mostly down to you.' Muttered Sir Thursday. Sunday shot him with such a vicious glance that it was surprising the Overlord of the Great Maze didn't have a hole burnt through his head.

'Now, there's nothing wrong with a little interference but please for The Architect's sake, cover it up, otherwise all the mortals will know about us. Especially you Friday.'

'Now that's not very fair Lord Sunday.' Friday protested. ' I just thought that Mars looked a lot prettier without so many clouds around it and all that water covering the surface. How was I supposed to know it would destroy all the inhabitants when I tidied it up a bit?'

'Use your common sen…' Sunday didn't finish the sentence, as he knew that the Mistress of the Middle House was sadly lacking in this department. He swiftly moved on.

'So all interference in the Secondary Realms is to be concealed. The next point, arbitration between realms. Now, the Incomparable Gardens has finally been installed with an inter demesne messaging system…' Sunday paused. For a good deal of time he had managed to avoid responsibility in these matters but the 'helpful' Lady Saturday had insisted on installing a system. Ever since, Sunday had been bombarded with paperwork and messages and his Times had refused to assist him. It wouldn't be so bad if the messages were requests or offerings but most of them said things like 'Sun u r a lzr… Mr. M.'

'But the system is only to be used for official House business, not for idle chatter.' This seemed to annoy Tuesday further, who had finished sculpting a large ornate toasting fork and was aiming it at Sunday's head. The Chief Denizen simply blew it aside.

'Yes Tuesday we've all seen your messages and read them in thorough detail.' Sunday had been very confused when he received a message that read 'Hi luv booked church for week on Thursday lots of luv Tuessie.' Sunday judged, that from the look on Wednesday's face and her behaviour towards Tuesday, that she had received something particularly nasty that had been meant for him.

'And now, for the part of the meeting I particularly resent… are there any complaints?'

There was not an enormous cacophony of voices this time, instead, Sunday was pleasantly surprised that the Days were sitting in silence with their hands in the air, looking a good deal like bored schoolchildren. That is except, for Mister Monday, who was talking at a hundred miles an hour, whingeing about postage, Nithlings, the idle behaviour of his Times and the general aroma that filled the Lower House. The Other Days looked at each other, and were in silent agreement.

Now that Mister Monday had been bound and gagged heavily with duck tape, Sunday could continue with the meeting. There were very few complaints this year, apart from Wednesday who claimed it should be illegal to send 'Tuesday brand stink bombs' in the inter-demesne messaging system and Tuesday who believed Sunday should outlaw 'Border Sea Mail Bombs'.

'Well then, it gives me great pleasure to conclude the second Grand Council of the Morrow Days. See you next millennium.' And with that, Sunday darted from the room, closely followed by the other Morrow Days. No one heard the solitary mumbling coming from the Master of the Lower House, and it would be several weeks before Monday's Times came to release him, and several more hours before they were able to stop giggling and cut the tape.


	3. Chapter 3: Streaking and Scoffing

Thank you for all the feedback… this is where the Days change… 

It was the year 1000 and humanity had evolved at an alarming rate. However, the other Morrow Days were still clowning around as usual, though there seemed to be something disturbing about their behaviour.

'SILENCE!!!'

Even Sunday jumped, for it was not him who had screamed. It was the usually silent Sir Thursday, who was attempting to prise Lady Friday from his arm.

'Get off me you degenerate!' Yelled Thursday as the Mistress of the Middle house puckered up. 'This is not the time!'

'Oh sorry Thursday, we forgot what side you really played for.' asked Monday, sniggering. He then made a noise that sounded like 'musical theatre…' before falling forward, fast asleep.

All the days stared at him, except for Wednesday who did not appear to have noticed, as she was too busy stuffing down a whole meringue pie. She only noticed once Monday's arm knocked some hors d'oeuvres, rather inappropriately onto her breasts. Wednesday slapped Monday into consciousness before cleaning off the crumbs into her hand and scoffing them down with a small drink.

She followed the small drink by draining the gravy boat loudly.

Sunday sighed and turned to his deputy, who was pinning a 'Superior Saturday' name badge to her gown.

'Saturday, call for order.'

'Why can't you do it my lord?'

'Because I'm the son of the Architect. The most superior Denizen in the house!'

'Alright… Morrow Days please calm down!

The other Days reluctantly turned to face Saturday, who regarded them all as if they were lower life forms. Monday was the only one who did not turn round; in fact he had managed to balance himself on his armrest and had swiftly fallen asleep.

'Now I trust you've all been reading the newsletter that will have turned up a your demesnes regularly?'

The Days all grunted affirmatively. After repeatedly smashing his inter-demesne messaging system with a sledgehammer, Lord Sunday had insisted on sending messages across the house via a newsletter system, which the other Days had made contributions to.

At least, they had all made contributions in the beginning until Lord Sunday had cancelled 'Lady Friday's Lonely Hearts column' and 'Thursday's How to lose friends and pulverise people' after he declared that their subject matters were not appropriate for a high class newsletter. Lady Friday had protested that Sunday's five page photoshoot was hardly appropriate either and it was this remark that had caused him to stab her with an 'experiencing' drug. The other Days did not see the Mistress of the Middle House until several days later, when she insisted that she was a Viking Goddess. The paper currently consisted of three sections:

Life and Opinions of Lord Sunday: (subtitled-Your Superior and don't you bloody well forget it)

Tales of the Front lines by Sir Thursday, Supreme Overlord of the Great Maze

And finally, the news itself, which was a group effort. However, due to Monday's current narcolepsy, Wednesday's gorging and Sunday's staunch refusal to share an article with his underlings, it eventually boiled down to the remaining Days to write it, and they too, were finding it difficult to work, what with Tuesday seeming unable to write anything original, Thursday's violent temper exploding every time there was a spelling mistake and Saturday spending the entire time complaining about how she was much better than Sunday. As for Friday, she spent about five minutes working before disappearing with different Denizens, before returning in what could only be described as 'a rather odd mood'.

Sunday was about to move on before Lady Wednesday cleared her throat, which could mean only one thing, the buffet was empty.

'Yes Lady Wednesday?'

'Well, me and Lady Saturday have been doing some thinking…'

There was a sarcastic cough from Thursday.

'And we think that we should restore the Will.'

Gasps came from the conscious Days.

'Is this true Lady Saturday?' Sunday asked, fixing his subordinate with an imperious glare.

'Er… of course not! It was all her idea!' Saturday yelled quickly, going to place a hand over the mouth of the indignant Wednesday. There was no need however, as the turncoat Day had lost her composure and had begin chewing into the table.

'In that case, Lady Wednesday, by the power vested in me by the Glorious Architect, a.k.a. The Creator of all, a.k.a. Mum, I strip you of your Key and demesne.'

Sunday pointed the Seventh Key at Wednesday, who looked up from her unusual meal to be hit by an invisible beam. The Third Key flew from her belt, and the Duchess of the Border Sea began to expand…

A short while later, after the leviathan Wednesday had been expelled from the room, and the indignant Sunday had been expelled from her stomach and hosed down, a sort of peace returned to the room. None of the Days noticed, or particularly cared that Friday had disappeared.

'Now that's over, I once again end this Morrow Days council, which has proceeded terribly…as usual. I bid farewell to all of you, and hope that you can leave without causing too much…'

At that moment, Wednesday's Dawn, Friday's Dusk and Thursday's Noon burst in, and begin to speak at once.

'Sir, sir…the Lady Wednesday just ate my brothers!'

'The Great Maze is under attack…again!

'We caught Lady Friday streaking through the hall sir!'

At this last message, Tuesday and Sunday leapt up, with a little more enthusiasm than they usually showed.

'But sir, what shall I do about the Third Key?'

'Oh I'm sure you can come up with something…'

**Much later…**

'I meant put it in the safe or something, not seal it in a worldlet inside her stomach guarded by a pirate! What is wrong with you?'

Sunday sighed. Every time…


	4. Chapter 4: Webcams and Wardrobes

When yet another thousand years had passed, the Morrow Days reluctantly met again. That is, save for two. Lady Wednesday would not attend due to her animosity towards the other Days, as well as being a gigantic whale who consumed everything in her path, while Lord Sunday's arrogance had reached such levels that he would not appear in person, instead making use of a mortal device called a 'webcam' to ensure his presence was still felt.

'So fellow Morrow Days, we meet once again…'

'You'll have to speak up Lord Sunday… I think we have a poor connection.' Said the self proclaimed Superior Saturday, carefully pronouncing every syllable. Lord Sunday frowned, sighed and then glanced to the left of his monitor.

'Perhaps it would be improved if you PLUGGED THE SPEAKERS IN!' He yelled.

'Oh. Silly me. Must have forgotten, what with me being the _Oldest Denizen of the House_ and all that….'

'Yes, yes, yes… may we proceed?'

Saturday reluctantly slumped into her chair and took a look around the room. To her left, Lady Friday was gulping down a strange liquid from the mirror of the Fifth Key, while on her right, Grim Tuesday was building a tower out of rapidly increasing coins, which clinked annoyingly. This served only to infuriate Sir Thursday, who was visibly restraining himself his sword hand from scattering the coins across the room.

'If we can possibly tear you away from your activities for just a moment…'

'But Saturday…erm… _Superior _Saturday.' Friday added after a look from the elder Denizen. 'I can't stop experiencing mid-way or I might be stuck in the victim's mindset forever.'

There was a mumbling from the speakers which sounded something like 'Anything would be an improvement'. Saturday cleared her throat.

'We shall begin… once Mister Monday has been located.'

The other Days turned into the direction of a loud snoring noise at the back of the room. Grim Tuesday marched over to the large armoire and opened the doors, to find Monday standing bolt upright, yet fast asleep amidst the clothes.

'Leave him for now. Now, as you are probably aware, the Part One of the Will has managed to escape the Sentinels, and it is paramount to the security of the House that it is recaptured. I trust you have all doubled the security around your Parts?'

The Morrow Days nodded.

'I still think my hiding place was the best.' Muttered the Grim.

'What? On a dead star? Oh real original.'

'Well, at least I don't go down and talk to my part Friday. Honestly!'

'Will you all shut up!' bellowed Saturday. 'Besides, we all know mine was the best idea.' Before anyone could respond, she continued. 'Now, before his mid afternoon nap, Mister Monday informed me that the Will has managed to find the Rightful Heir, a mortal boy named Penhaligon.'

Monday awoke with a start, a strange wisdom in his eyes.

'Perhaps we should all take our Keys and wait in the Elysium for the Heir to arrive. He would not last a second against us, Will or no Will.'

The Denizens stared at him, before turning away and acting as if nothing had happened.

'So what do you impose Saturday?'

'I would suggest a tactical assault upon this mortal Heir, which might be made easier once he gains control of a single demesne of the House.' The Denizens glanced at Monday, but he had already fallen asleep again, half singing in his sleep something that resembled a sea shanty crossed with a mortal 'pop song'.

'That is, if Lord Sunday does not object?'

Lord Sunday did not respond, and a small sign had appeared on his screen: 'Lord Sunday is offline'.

'Then it is settled. I believe there is no further business?' asked Saturday, though she almost certainly was not expecting an answer.

'Excellent'.

The Denizens quickly filed out, none of them aware that this was the last meeting they would attend. Sir Thursday used his rapier Key to 'encourage' Mister Monday out of the room, something made more difficult by the fact that the slothful Day was fending him off with a coat hanger.

'You were never such an apt combatant during your century of service in my Army.'

'Well I had a lousy teacher.' Snickered Monday, prompting the Overlord of the Great Maze to leap forward in a fury, knocking the two Denizens to the floor and out of sight. Eventually, only Saturday remained in the chamber.

'Let the Will be done, and the House destroyed, if only to stop these damn meetings!'


	5. Epilogue

Sunday opened his eyes, slowly gaining his bearings.

'Where am I?' he wondered. Oh yes… in Nothing.

'Greetings former Lord Sunday.'

A blindingly bright figure moved towards Sunday, and he had to shield his eyes.

'Who are you?'

'I was Arthur Penhaligon. Now, I am the New Architect of all Creation.'

Sunday laughed bitterly.

'I see. The extent of Mother's Will fulfilled. And you've come to gloat have you? Torment me in my eternal prison?'

The New Architect smiled.

'No. And this prison certainly isn't eternal. I've come to tell you that your stay here is to be limited to a thousand years.'

The former Lord of the Incomparable Gardens stared in wonderment at his former foe.

'Just like that?'

The New Architect smirked.

'Don't thank me too soon.'

With that, he disappeared, leaving Sunday to ponder.

'After all this, only a thousand years?'

'Strange isn't it?'

With a growing sense of dread, Sunday turned. There behind were the Morrow Days, waving at him and smiling pleasantly.

'Oh no… please…'

'A thousand years. We're going to have so much fun!'

Truly, this was a fate worse than death.

**THE END**


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